


Charity Begins At Home (Penguin)

by SilverHalos88



Series: Batman: The Knightless Day [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Family Issues, Kidnapped, Or Bad Guy Doing Good Things, Secret Identity, good guy doing bad things, the futurists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 15:08:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30074127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverHalos88/pseuds/SilverHalos88
Summary: Oscar Whistlestone is a man of two minds, a man who is torn between the life he wants to lead and the life he has to lead. As the pressure of his choices bears down upon him, the decision about what to do about his future may be about to slip from his hands entirely...“In times of crisis and doubt, people have always looked to heroes to guide them. They give us hope and strength, offer us a place of safety in a world that often seems as if it has gone insane. But what if that desire for a saviour was in itself a threat? What if in trying to find the light, you only ended up deeper in the dark? As conspiracy clashes with reality and ‘The Futurists’ begin to make their final move, the world of the Dark Knight will come to realise only one thing is certain: truth is fragile thing, and sometimes it might be best to leave the lies alone…”
Series: Batman: The Knightless Day [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2212179
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

The red light flashed steadily in the phone cradle, as it had for the last hour.   
“I talked to him. Edward is still reluctant to step out of line. I think I can convince him, but it’ll take time. Yes, I know that’s not in our favour at the moment, but I won’t rush him, not if it means risking losing him.” Oscar Whistlestone said as he leant back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. His arm had started to ache from holding the phone to his ear for so long, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t dare ignore this call, not with everything riding on this. Everything he had riding on this.   
“Don’t worry, we’ll work it all out. Trust me. I’ve had gang leaders put sawn-off shotguns to my head on a number of occasions. I can deal with the pressure of this. I’ll talk to you soon. Just stay safe.” With that, he finally pushed the button to end the call, then placed the handset back in its base.   
Oscar took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. He found no peace in the darkness though. Only images of a life he wished to escape. As he opened his eyes he spun himself around in his chair and looked at the room he was in. Everywhere he looked, he saw relics of his achievements. Each one gave him a sense of comfort that seemed to push away the darkness in his mind. It was more than just comfort though. The objects he saw filled him with pride and satisfaction, with love and hope in a way that nothing, not even his friends or family, ever could. Not even Edward, though that was another case entirely, one that he quickly pushed from his mind.   
His family. Oscar scoffed at the thought as he walked over to a picture on the wall. It showed him surrounded by many others as they embraced him heartily, each one complete strangers hours before yet by the time the photo had been taken, anyone of them would have gone out of their way to help him. That was real family. They didn’t hold him to any mountainous expectations, nor did they try to control every aspect of his life. Not like his real family. The Whistlestone’s were an old world family, an old money family, with roots that stretched far back into English history. They were as powerful as they were withdrawn from society, seeking to keep all the members of the family in the same closed off world that had given them such prosperity in the first place. For his siblings, his cousins, it had been the perfect solution; all the wealth without none of the contact with the filthy outside world and its dirty peasants. It was a miracle he’d survived as long as he had. He’d been practically suffocating by the time he’d broken away and fled to America, taking whatever assets he could get his hands on. His family hadn’t like it, but what were they going to do? Stuck up fools. All they were to him now was inspiration for his other half, the portion of him he saved for the moments he needed to be something… darker.  
Oscar looked away from the picture and headed to the window. It was bright outside, the heat rising from the ground in patches of rippling air. The sight made him glad for the cold breeze on his neck from the air conditioner in the wall behind him. He liked things cold, he thought as he dropped his gaze to the window seal. With a smile, he gently picked up one of the items he found there and rolled it in his fingers. The penguin figurine was one of many such items on the window seal, and just holding it made him feel better. Penguins. They were one of the few things he was glad to have taken from his family. One of his ancestors had been the first westerner to see the creatures, to bring them back to the civilised world. The bird had quickly been adopted by the Whistlestone family as its crest, though it meant nothing to them. To him, it was a symbol, something he could use as a rallying point for all he wanted to accomplish. All he had accomplished.   
And now all those accomplishments were at risk.  
Oscar’s eyes narrowed as he bitterly mulled the thought over. They had come close to being discovered a number of times before, the Futurists. Every time, they had pulled it back from the brink of failure, but this felt different somehow. It felt like too big a step away from their original goal, the founding principles that had first united them as a group and had guided them through the years. The worst part was, that on paper it all seemed perfect. There was nothing he could find that justified his suspicions. But the longer the group spent discussing and preparing for the next step, the more wrong it felt. He looked around the room again, at all the objects there. Yes, he thought with a nod of his head, it felt very wrong indeed. He was going to do everything in his power to safeguard all that was his.   
Even if it meant betraying every member of the Futurists.   
Oscar replaced the figurine and turned away from the window. He headed for the door, his mind set on a course of action that was uncertain at best, deadly at worst. But with one last look at the sign on his office door, he knew he couldn’t turn back. The sign read “Whistlestone Penguin Foundation For Social Reform, CEO’s Office.” Yes, Oscar thought, there were too many people relying on him. He walked away.


	2. Chapter 2

“Come on Mr Oscar, pass the ball!” The girl yelled excitedly, her arms reaching up towards him, the same way a dozen other pairs did. Oscar smiled. He wasn’t a tall man by any definition of the word, but with his arm stretched high above him, there was nothing the seven and eight year olds around him could do but wait for him to respond. He smiled brightly.  
“Go long!” He shouted, straining to make his voice heard above the noise of the children, then gave the ball in his hand a hard thrust. It flew far through the air, and almost as one, the pack of children turned and raced after it. Oscar watched them go, their joy bringing him a happiness few other things did. He took a deep breath, then turned and braced himself for the barrage of flashes he knew was coming his way. The cameras did their business, and a few moments later his personal assistant stepped in.   
“Thank you, ladies and gentleman, but that concludes this part of press photoshoot. If you’ll follow me, it’s time to show you all the exciting ideas the foundation has planned for social housing developments over the next year. Mr Whistlestone is a very busy man, and we’ve taken up enough of his time.” His PA said politely but firmly. The assembled reporters gave their thanks, then headed in the direction indicated by the PA. As they walked away, the PA turned back to him and gave him a knowing wink. He smiled his thanks, then watched her walk away. In truth, the meeting with the reporters was meant to last another fifteen minutes, but his assistance had known him long enough to know when he needed a break. He had never really been a fan of media attention, though it went beyond his natural aversion to being in the spotlight. It was dangerous for there to be too many pictures of him available to the public. The transformation procedure the group had developed to turn into their…alter egos was fairly comprehensive, though there was always the chance that someone out there could uncover the truth. With the right technology and skill, it was easily done. It was a problem the Futurists had had to deal with before, with deadly efficiency. He didn’t like that, but the few times it had happened, he had forced himself to think of the greater good.  
The greater good.  
What even was that now? He was a man with an army of thugs at his command. He had held a city to ransom on multiple occasions without so much as a blink of an eye, had personally killed so many people that he didn’t even bother to count them now. But he hadn’t enjoyed it. Did that matter, did that make him a brave person for doing the things that needed to be done yet shouldn’t? Was ‘the Penguin’ really the greater good he’d been lead to believe? He didn’t know. Such questions were beyond him at the moment, though he sensed in the years yet to come he would find himself returning to them in his sleepless nights. There was much left to do, both for the Futurist’s cause and his own, and he knew many people were going to suffer at his hand before it was through. It had to be like this. There was no point in wondering if there was another way, because there wasn’t. They had all seen to that long ago.  
Oscar stood and watched the kids play for a few moments longer. This was the main center of his Penguin Foundation, as much a place of work as it was a sanctuary to those who needed it most. From here, he and his staff had worked tirelessly in their charitable pursuits, each one of them an effort to improve the lives of the country’s most vulnerable. There were so many poor, desperate people who needed help, and he was determined to reach as many of them as he could.   
Something in the children’s play caught his attention, and for a moment he was drawn from his thoughts. It was nothing much, a simple arguments between friends over who did what. It didn’t get much further than name calling before their respective parents stepped in.  
Cobblepot.  
That’s what they had called him, his older siblings as they had tormented him as a child. It was some kind of insult they had made up, mocking his love of playing with kids outside the family’s circle. The poorer, more common kids. Making it the name of his other side was an easy decision. As for ‘Oswald’, he had just chosen the most pompous name he could think of. His whole character had been built on the things he most despised. It was one of the things that made it easier to do what he did.   
Turning away from the playground, Oscar headed for the changing room. The photoshoot had been themed around interacting with the children, and now he was eager to change out of his sports clothes. He flicked on the light and closed the door, then retrieved his bag.  
“Interesting show you put on out there. I almost believed it.” The voice had come out of nowhere, but Oscar recognised it instantly. Slowly, he turned around, his eyes scanning the darker end of the changing room. He hadn’t even noticed the light not come on when he had entered.  
“Why are you here?!” He spat, his voice a mixture of anger and shock.   
“I need to talk to you. You have knowledge that I need.” The voice came again, and as it did a shadow moved in the darkness. Oscar clenched his fists in annoyance.  
“You know the rules, you know the procedures! If you want to talk to me you do as we’ve always done, that’s how it works!” He shouted, though as he did he sensed something different, a shift in the air.  
“I’m sorry Oscar, but that’s not going to work for me, not this time.” The voice said coolly, and before Oscar could react the shadow darted for him with blistering speed. As pain flooded through his body, the last thing Oscar found himself thinking of was Edward.  
Then everything went black.


End file.
